


Silver and Steel.

by kryptononon



Series: steel always seeking; eyes ever watching. [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Post-Campaign 2, nothing much has changed actually, this wouldnt let me sleep until i wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptononon/pseuds/kryptononon
Summary: Her name echoes across Wildemount, her title striking fear into those who lurk in the night. The very mention of her name freezes blood and causes fiends and monsters to flee. It is said that her blades strike true, steel biting into mortal flesh, and silver cutting through otherworldly bone.Those who hear her, call her the Witcher.Those who see her, call her Orphanmaker.Those who know her, call her Yasha Nydoorin.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Yasha & The Mighty Nein
Series: steel always seeking; eyes ever watching. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563100
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Silver and Steel.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this purely because the thought wouldn't stop haunting me in my sleep so mhm here it is in its unedited glory

In antiquity, there were many like her. Yet, none of them were really _like_ her. Yasha had worked alone for most of her life. Her blades were her family, and the battlefields and wastes her home. The path of the Witcher was expected to be difficult, bloody, and torturous. Yasha was really feeling the bloody bit right about now, pulling her hand away from her abdomen to see blood still soaking through her clothes, seeping through them and flowing down her leg.

The dirt paths soon gave way to properly paved roads as civilisation drew near. Interaction with other beings of mortal flesh wasn't one of Yasha's best suits, unlike hunting and killing, but her grievous injury was not doing her much favours as of this moment, forcing her to trudge her way into one of the taverns, collapsing onto a wooden stool and calling for a flagon of strong ale. Ignoring the stares of curious patrons of the tavern, Yasha averts their gaze by staring at a wooden splint on the floor, continuing to apply pressure to the gushing wound. The half-panicked barmaid rushes over with a large flagon of ale, setting it down on Yasha's table as she passed one gold piece to her, paying for both the ale and for her silence.

The ale doesn't do much other than take away some of the pain's edge, but it would suffice. The person she was meeting, later on, would heal her anyway.

* * *

"High Priestess Lavorre? Jester?" Yasha's voice boomed into the only temple of the Traveller, her voice ricochetting off the marble walls and the silver statue of a hooded figure. For a few moments, there was no response, only the soft flowing of water from the pools inside the temple. Kneeling in front of one of them, Yasha peels off her outer garb, setting her shroud and mostly ruined top on the marble floor, scooping some clear water from the temple pools in her hands and rinsing her wounds, letting the water wash off her abdomen and onto the floor, where the white Parian marble was stained a stark crimson.

The rustling of paper and some other miscellaneous items echoed then, into the sanctuary, as a blue-skinned tiefling woman ran through the halls, looking at Yasha knelt in front of the pool, the floor around her stained with what seemed like her blood.

"Oh no, oh dear, Yasha!" The bubbly priestess practically screeched in surprise, her hands already glowing with divine energy as she knelt beside the Witcher, holding a glowing hand above Yasha's, the older woman practically sighing in relief after feeling the healing power course through her veins and stitching the wound back by itself, though it left an indelible mark on her porcelain skin.

"There. The Traveller thinks you're really cool." Jester muses, her green dress robes pooling onto the floor as she sat down next to Yasha, the larger woman putting her robes back on, the Witcher's medallion hanging from her neck as she gazes into the pool, looking at her reflection, Jester smiling at her through it, putting up two fingers and striking a cute pose. Her tough facade cracking, Yasha smiles fondly at her old friend, who sticks out her tongue at her. At that moment, Jester lived up to her position as High Priestess, looking every bit the angel that she was. On Yasha's face though, she saw the reflection of a weary warrior, the blue warpaint already fading in some places, her pale skin stained purple by the blood that had mingled with the paint. Her eyes, however, threatened to speak volumes, the tired eyes that some said held the colour of lightning, others the colour of blood mingling with the night sky. They weren't wrong, the mutagens that Yasha drank regularly had turned her originally white hair mostly black, and stained one of her blue eyes with crimson, giving its vibrant and unusual purple hue.

"Thanks, Jester." Yasha had managed, the pain from the wound finally fading away as Jester removed her hand. The blue tiefling waves her thanks off, saying something about being old friends before settling down beside Yasha, crossing her legs and smiling at the Witcher, who scrunches her nose in response, smiling ever so slightly.

"Are you ever going to find Beau? You know, after you two parted ways, she didn't really talk much. She told me that she knew how important your Witcher thing was, you know, killing monsters and shit. But! She also told me that her stuff was important too! Definitely the Expositor stuff, definitely." Jester started to ramble, as Yasha's expression drops to something more severe, recalling the time that fate and duty tore them away from each other, Yasha to the Xhorhasian Wastes, and Beauregard back to Zadash.

* * *

"I'll see you again, right? After we've both done what we needed to do." Beauregard said, looking at Yasha over her shoulder, her horse whinnying at the prospect of worsening weather.

Yasha meets Beauregard's gaze, as she let those blue eyes bore into her soul like they usually have done. The Witcher's gaze softening, Yasha smiles fondly at Beauregard, who gives her signature lopsided grin as a response.

"Of course we will meet again, _minne_." Yasha had promised then to Beauregard, who rode closer to Yasha after that statement, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips before riding off towards the Dwendalian Empire.

* * *

"...Of course, I will find Beau. I am in the Empire now, am I not?" Yasha inquires, half-unsure of their current location as her map was burnt beyond recognition by a pesky kobold in some caverns somewhere in Xhorhas. It was a miracle that Yasha even found civilisation in the first place, much less the temple of the Traveller. Jester stops to think for a moment, before laughing and resting her arm on Yasha's shoulder.

"Oh no, silly. We are outside the Empire. The Traveller isn't permitted for worship in the Empire, remember? And so is the Wildmother. One of Caduceus' newer graveyards is just outside the Empire, near Shady Creek Run. They actually set it up around uh... you know, Molly's grave marker?" Jester said, her voice petering off towards the end of her sentence. Yasha's expression too, drops even further, remembering one of her best allies, and a man she was proud to call her friend.

"Ah, well, I have to get ready for the next communing session with the Traveller. You're welcome to join me if you want?" Jester decides, standing up with a grunt of effort, Yasha standing up soon after her.

"Thank you, Jester, but I think it's time to give Fjord, Molly and Mr Clay a visit," Yasha said, smiling at Jester, who waved cheerfully as Yasha exited the small temple.

* * *

A simple investment of a horse and a new map served Yasha very well, as she had hoped, managing to arrive in the newly blooming grove sprouting out of the side of Shady Creek Run, the unmistakable minty smell of Caduceus' signature graveyard tea wafting up to greet Yasha's heightened senses. A familiar half-orc, dressed in light green robes with a sword strapped to his back, was tilling the soil as he heard heavy footsteps behind him, turning around quickly with a hand on the hilt of his blade. Putting her hands up and backing away, Yasha slowly waves with her right hand as Fjord visibly relaxes, his grip on the Star Razor loosening as he cards his fingers through his hair.

"Oh Yasha. It's just you." The half-orc sighed, scruffing his beard. Fjord's tusks have finally become fully grown, and Yasha nods as she approaches the graveyard, pocketing her Witcher's medallion as it began to vibrate relentlessly in reaction to the magic coursing through the grove.

"Just me. I'm just here to say hi to you and Caduceus, and to ask if there's anything that I could help you guys with." Yasha implores, while Fjord gathers his gardening tools in one arm, leading them further into the grove, where Caduceus was currently having a cup of tea with an audience of tiny squirrels, who immediately scattered in different directions upon seeing Yasha and Fjord enter their space.

With a soft hum tinged ever so slightly with a hint of disappointment, Caduceus turns to Yasha, regarding her with a small curt nod, which Yasha returns, her hand clasped over the pouch where her medallion was wildly vibrating.

"Actually, the squirrels just told me of a feral owlbear that was seen attacking the local wildlife around here lately. Perhaps you would like to join Mr Fjord and me in well, dispatching the problem?" Caduceus said calmly, handing cups of tea to both the half-orc and the aasimar. The tea had a nice floral hint to it, with fruity notes and an overall mellow taste. It must be one of the firbolg's signature graveyard teas. Most people seemed to not take kindly to Caduceus' tea, but Yasha was different. Her whole life, dealing out death like a dealer does cards, it was nice to see a... gentler side of death, one that didn't involve spilling blood and viscera all over the forest floor.

"I would be delighted to." Yasha nods her approval, as Caduceus smiles languidly, reaching behind a tree to pass her a woven conical straw hat.

"Here you go. The Wildmother told me that you would be making your way around these parts soon, so I figured that I would make you a little something for you to bring on the road. The sun and rain have been harsh as of late, and I thought you might need some extra protection."

Yasha puts on the hat, a surprisingly well-made and snug, as it blocked the sun from blinding her. Thanking Caduceus, the Witcher places her cup back down on the tree stump and clears her throat.

"So, where is this monster you speak of?"

* * *

Two blasts of eldritch energy sailed past Yasha, hitting the abnormally large owlbear in its monstrous hide as the Witcher recovers from being hit, rolling over to Magician's Judge, which was knocked out of her grasp earlier when the creature viciously tore into her. Picking up the silvered blade, the runes on its hilt and blade flare and glow a bright blue, accompanied by the sparking noises made by the lightning that arced off the weapon's magical runes.

Grasping the blade tightly in both of her hands, Yasha runs up to the owlbear, narrowly dodging its sharp beak as she landed on the ground with her knees, carving into the monstrosity's flesh with Magician's Judge. Letting out a pained wailing scream, the owlbear attempts a swipe at Yasha, but the hit glances off her blade, leaving it open to another attack from Fjord, slicing into its hide with the Star Razor, though it didn't seem to have much of an effect on the creature, who turns its attention on the half-orc, who swears under his breath and takes a wild swing, missing it entirely. From his vantage point behind the treeline, Caduceus lets out a disgruntled sigh, accompanied by a vehement shaking of his head. With his hand outstretched, the firbolg mumbles an incantation under his breath, as divine energy gathers in his fingers before the owlbear screeches in pain as Yasha and Fjord scramble to shield their eyes from the sudden outburst of flames erupting from the creature.

Nodding at Fjord, Yasha takes the moment of distraction to rip her last bottle of mutagen from her waist, downing the toxic solution in one breath, feeling the raw power course through her veins as she hacked at one of the owlbear's front limbs, and Fjord its hind limb. Immediately, the creature stumbles and collapses, unable to move as Yasha, her veins still thrumming with mutagenic power, takes a few steps back, running at a boulder with all her speed, jumping off of it, and swinging off a low-hanging branch before plunging Magician's Judge into the monstrosity's head, as it let out one final roar of pain before falling, still and silent, onto the forest floor. Sweat dripping off her brow, Yasha catches her breath as she removes the greatsword, wiping it on the owlbear's fur before sheathing it and strapping it back onto the back. Fjord gives Yasha a thumbs up while he recovers, hands on his knees and Star Razor on his belt. Caduceus ambles over, a languid smile still plastered on his face as he placed a palm on Fjord, stitching up his wounds before doing the same to Yasha.

"You learnt those moves from your... from Beau?" Fjord tries to comment, stumbling on his words as he took a moment to breathe.

"Perhaps. She and I, we might have learnt things from each other, and we would both be none the wiser." Yasha replied, feeling the adrenaline rush from the fight and her mutagen solution finally fade away, exposing her exhaustion, which Caduceus swiftly takes care of with a Restoration spell. With a pat on both their shoulders, Caduceus waits for them to recover before escorting them both back to Shady Creek Run, Yasha's straw hat finding itself safely placed on top of her head again.

"You know, it's times like this where I really do miss the Nein, don't you think?" Caduceus comments, as they walk past the tree stump that they had tea on earlier, Walking further into the forest.

"You're right," Yasha admits, "We could probably have taken the owlbear down even faster with the Nein's help."

Caduceus nods thoughtfully, as they break through the forest line, coming to a stop in front of a relatively flat plain, with a singular piece of beautiful tapestry dancing in the wind as it hung from a wooden marker. Giving Yasha some time alone, Caduceus puts a hand on Fjord's shoulder, shaking his head at him and gesturing for him to stay put. Despite his slightly confused glance, Fjord nods slowly, staying put as they watch Yasha walk towards Mollymauk's grave marker, placing her palm on the tapestry and looking at the colourful fungi that have grown on the soil surrounding it.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Yasha looks at the colourful fungi and the tarot card of the Moon that Jester left behind all those years ago, dusting off the tapestry as she righted its position slightly.

"Even in death," Yasha choked, her voice cracking before she cleared her throat and tried again. "Even in death, you're so colourful. Never change."

Pulling a book out from her belt, Yasha gingerly flips through the pages, humming her approval and slowly setting down a pressed flower in front of the tarot card. The flowers were blue, small, but numerous. With a sigh, Yasha ran her hand down the cloak, as if the lavender tiefling were still there, standing in front of Yasha with a mixed expression of pride and cockiness. If she strained her ears hard enough, perhaps sharpen her senses with another mutagen, Yasha would hear Molly's laugh, hear him boasting about his latest prey, or mulling over the fact that some random person went up to him and told him that he belonged to a band of Witchers, just like Yasha.

(Molly never did buy that story though. He was happy just being a circus man, and just supporting one Witcher in her life was good enough for him.)

"And I'll never forget."

* * *

And with a last goodbye to the followers of Melora, Yasha got on her horse and swiftly made her way south, towards Hupperdook, where she had planned to meet Nott, Yeza, Luc and Caleb to get her hands on more mutagen formulas. Maybe if she were lucky, Kiri would be there too. Right now, Yasha's utility belt feels light. Too light. With another whip of the horse's reins, Yasha quickened her pace to Hupperdook, the sheer speed of her horse kicking up dirt in all directions as the sun began to set over Wildemount.

Nursing some of Caduceus' tea beside a small bonfire the next morning, Yasha watched as the sun rose above the west, the silhouette of the Rockguard Garrison almost visible in the far distance. Taking a bite out of some spider meat jerky that she had prepared for the road, Yasha plucks a flower from beside her, some small, ordinary grass flowers, as well as some grass, and puts it in her book, which was getting quite full, just by the looks of it. As she closed the book, Yasha laid back against the tree, letting her eyes drift closed as she focused on her surroundings, hearing the birds sing their early morning songs.

"HELLO YASHA? WE HAVE REACHED HUPPERDOOK, I REPEAT WE HAVE ARRIVED IN HUPPERDOOK. CALEB AND I WILL WAIT HERE. youcanreplytothismessage."

Nearly dropping the cup in her hand, Yasha jolts back, looking wide-eyed at her surroundings as some of the birds were scared off by her sudden movement. Taking a moment to compose herself, Yasha sighs, taking a deep breath before clearing her throat.

"Yes, hi Nott. I am... on the way. I will be there soon. And please never shout through Sending ever again." Yasha said in an exasperated tone, awaiting the inevitable reply.

"OKAY YASHA. SEE YOU AT THE _R E N D E Z V O U S._"

Yasha wanted to cry.

Nevertheless, packing her bedroll and personal effects on horseback, Yasha mounts her trusty steed, which she has named Roach, and rides off towards Hupperdook, this time not making any stopovers, hoping to reach the town before it gets too dark.

* * *

Perhaps, assuming Hupperdook would be dark and much less, quiet, during the night was a mistake on Yasha's behalf. As the setting sun cast a long shadow of Yasha and Roach, she could see distant fireworks in the air, and she could hear the crackle and popping of the pyrotechnics. Taking that as a positive sign, Yasha pushes on forwards, managing to enter Hupperdook just before the darkness completely overtook the surrounding areas. Hupperdook however, stayed intensely bright as gnomes drunk on ale sing songs of war and bounty, and children set off fireworks in the night sky.

Trotting towards the Idlework Shelf on the Upper Tier, Yasha found her straw hat to be quite useful, as it obscured her face, some more perceptive gnomes only staring at Yasha's medallion that she had hung around her neck, and the symbol of the Stormlord that sat on her right side. Witchers were not common at all within the Empire. If anything, they're a rarity. Some have said that King Dwedal hated Witchers, and any people of the sort, and once had all the tribes lynched in his name. Yasha tried not to think about getting caught. If anything, Yasha would just tell them the half-truth. That she was running away from her homeland of Xhorhas, away from her long-due execution that had claimed Zuala. She would leave out passing the Trial of Grasses with Zuala, leave out hunting monsters with the woman that was her wife, leave out how Obann had manipulated her into taking revenge, leave out how she was partly responsible for the Chained Oblivion's temporary release. She'll just leave out all that, and she would be fine.

Dismounting Roach, Yasha ties them to a pole, feeding them a small carrot before striding into the Blushing Tankard, where numerous people were trying to drink others under the table, while others sat and watched, cheering them on from the sidelines. Sliding into a seat next to a familiar cloaked wizard, Yasha orders two tankards of ale, which Caleb accepted graciously.

"How is life treating you, Caleb?" Yasha attempted, trying to start a conversation with the wizard, who has grown some light stubble on his chin, his somewhat long orange hair tied up messily in a short ponytail. They were currently watching Nott, in her Veth visage, trying to drink some other gnome under the table, while Yeza nervously grips his hand, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Yasha feels a weighted furry mass settle on her shoulders, and smiles as she softly petted Frumpkin's head, earning soft purrs of approval from the fey cat.

"All things considering, quite good. We, uh, have been travelling to different libraries to find different spells for ourselves, and for Yeza to publish his findings regarding the dunamis. We just came back from the Cobalt Soul. We're just here on a stopover." Caleb said, before taking a long swig of his ale, wiping his mouth off with the sleeves of his coat.

"Beauregard is also doing quite well now, actually. People respect her, and they all listened to what Yeza had to say when she did as well." Yasha cocks an eyebrow at Caleb's statement, nodding quietly while sipping on her ale, watching as Nott receives her winnings, walking towards the bar with Yeza in tow.

"Hello, Yashie." Nott croaks, hiccuping as Yasha greets the both of them with a stalwart nod, the halfling man slightly cowering just from seeing Yasha towering over him. Clearing his throat, Yeza climbs onto a taller barstool, placing a satchel on the bar table, earning a curious look from the bartender, but was swiftly deflected as Nott glared at him. Turning her gaze back to Yasha, Nott carefully pulled out some flowers from her hair, handing them to Yasha, who gratefully takes them and slides it into her book.

Gingerly taking four vials out, Yasha shifts her attention to Yeza, who adjusts his glasses and beginning to introducing them one by one as Frumpkin took to sitting on top of Yasha's head, the woman not seeming to mind at all as the cat started to lick its paws.

"Well, with the time and the ingredients that you have generously given me to work with, I have actually made some rather... potent mixtures." Yeza starts, pulling a vial of slightly glowing green liquid towards them. "This is called De Vrie's Extract. This potion allows you to see all, even through walls and creatures with invisibility for about an hour, theoretically. You're the first one who is testing these for me, seeing as the compound is, uh, quite toxic, as with all of them here."

Nodding, Yasha urges Yeza to continue, the halfling man taking a sip of Caleb's ale and carrying on, this time pulling a vial filled with red liquid in it. It looks like an ordinary health potion, but knowing the nature of Yeza's task, Yasha files her assumptions aside.

"This potion is called Full Moon. Even though it is made from similar ingredients as a regular health potion, it is extremely lethal to folks like us. For you, however, it can increase your constitution, rendering you immune to poison for a total of 8 hours. It also can restore some lost health, and increases your ability to take damage by twofold." Yeza gestures, the red liquid sloshing inside its container. Caleb eyes the potion, his eyes blinking as he eventually nods.

The halfling then pulls another vial, this time with an orange liquid that seemed to fizzle slightly. "This one is called Wolverine. It does not immediately activate upon use, but rather kicks in when you have taken considerable damage. This potion allows you to deal more damage, augmenting your strength for a period of 8 hours after consumption. However, as some of the ingredients to make this spell have alcoholic properties in them, you may be intoxicated when you are using the potion, which decreases both your reaction time and accuracy. I would use this as a last resort." Yeza nods, pushing the vial towards Yasha. With the final vial that was left, Yeza smiles at her friends, pushing the vial of blue liquid towards Yasha. The glass vial seemed to have some sort of cold mist curling around it, similar to the mist that surrounds an ice cube in room temperature.

"Now this one, I am quite proud of actually. This one is called Shrike. It inflicts pain upon those who oppose you in battle. What sort of pain you would like to deal, it is up to you, Mrs Nydoorin. Radiant, necrotic, psychic, the possibilities are endless!" Yeza proclaims, pushing the vial into Yasha's hands, and she gingerly takes it, clipping the four precious vials of potent liquid to her utility belt, unclipping a small pouch of coins and placing them on the bar table, in front of Yeza, Nitt and Caleb. Frumpkin then poofs off of Yasha's head, prodding at the coin pouch and tipping it over, seventy gold coins cascading across the length of the table. The commotion and sound of falling coin attracts attention, and Yasha subconsciously tugs her hat lower, trying to further obscure her features. 

"For your good work, Mr Brenatto. Spend it on Luc, bring him to the Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities. A little bird told me that they are making a stop here in Hupperdook soon. It would do the young boy well to be exposed to Curiosities of the world at an early age." Yasha comments, smiling at Yeza, who looks up at her in shock.

"I- I... I didn't think that you would be paying me, Mrs Nydoorin. You- you should really take this money back, I don't really have a use for it as of-"

"Well, I'm a simple girl. I see coin, I HFSGHBNGNHSN-" Nott burbled, gathering all of the coin in her pouch as Yeza and Caleb looked on in shock.

"I mean, _ja_, we will definitely see the Circus again. Surely nothing bad will happen the next time, right?" Caleb asks as Frumpkin dissipates in a cloud of smoke once more, reappearing in Yasha's lap as it curls up, the larger woman slowly scritching the cat on the head, right behind the ears. The fey cat purrs again, and Yasha can't help but smile to herself.

* * *

Yasha leaves the next morning before daybreak, the unusually quiet town of Hupperdook passing her by as she continues on ahead, towards Zadash.

In the outskirts of the town, Yasha slows her horse down to a trot as a young girl in a yellow dress waved her hands wildly while standing in Roach's way. With a loud neigh, Roach comes to a stop as Yasha looks at the girl from beneath her straw hat, dried tears streaked across her cheeks. Slowly dismounting, Yasha kneels in front of the girl, matching her height as she cautiously places a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you lost, little one?" Yasha asked, her voice soft. The little girl shakes her head and looks at Yasha with teary eyes.

"My owl. He's up there. He doesn't want to come down." The girl sobs, as Yasha wipes away her tears with her thumbs.

"Then I guess it's time for us to chase an owl."

And that is how Yasha got herself stuck in a tall tree, ten metres off the ground as she straddled the tree with her thighs, holding on for dear life. She coos at a brown horned owl, her hands outstretched as she waggles her fingers, teasing the owl with some spider meat. The owl doesn't seem like it gave two shits however, looking at Yasha with its eyes, its head twitching as it looked at the spider meat for a few moments. Yasha coos again, gesturing for the owl to come nearer, but it just turns the other way, screeching as it took flight.

"NO! Bloody owl." Yasha sighs, finally understanding why Beau was so upset over Professor Thaddeus. Owls are a pain in the hind. Resigned to tell the small girl the bad news, Yasha holds on to the tree, carefully trying to climb down without giving herself too many splinters.

Suddenly, Yasha feels talons grip into her scalp as she yelps in surprise, accidentally letting go of the tree and landing on the forest floor with a thud, the owl landing softly on Yasha's chest, hooting triumphantly. At that moment, she thought of how owl meat would taste. The girl happily skips towards Yasha, the damn owl perching on her shoulder as the aasimar sat up, sighing heavily while forcing a smile on her face as the young girl skips away.

Yasha was lucky that Roach followed her. The chase for the blasted bird brought her off Gravelway Path, and onto Rillway Road. Thank the Stormlord that she was still on track. Carrying on her journey towards Zadash, Yasha stops under a large tree to set up camp for the night, settling in and getting as comfortable as she could be.

Resting her head on her arms, Yasha feels the wind shift as a sudden storm rolls in, drenching her face as she stood up and looked towards the horizon for any sort of lightning or messages from the Stormlord. A minute passes. Nothing. Maybe the Stormlord didn't want her to go to Zadash. Perhaps there was another monster to be slain or another tyrant who needs to be brought down a peg.

Instead, a streak of blue light illuminated the night sky, as lightning arcs towards the walled city of Zadash, deafening cracks of thunder following soon after.

_"My child," _The familiar baritone of Kord's voice reverberated within Yasha, quaking her very bones. _"Return. Your job as Witcher is momentarily fulfilled. Spend time with someone who can help break your chains. Go now, with haste."_

"I- I understand, Stormlord." The thunder continues to rumble, as Yasha sees another streak of lightning over Zadash. Packing up her soaked bedroll and latching it onto Roach's back, Yasha resumes her journey to Zadash, the storm still roiling around her.

* * *

The next morning, when Yasha finally reaches her destination, at the gates of Zadash, the storm continues to be unrelenting, pelting down on the Crownsguard who let her in as a result of their carelessness, as well as irritation at the weather. 

Riding on past the relatively empty Pentamarket and tying Roach to a pole, Yasha walks in the rain and into the Invulnerable Vagrant, the arcane bell playing a leasing tune as she passed through the doors.

"Oh, it's you. What a pleasant surprise. Hold on." One of the four Pumats greets Yasha, waving his hands as Yasha felt a warm gust of wind envelope her before her clothes were dry and mended.

"Thank you, Pumat," Yasha says, as the four firbolgs all turn to her, one of them waving as they all turn around one by one, addressing the aasimar in their store.

"You're welcome- you're welcome- you're welcome," all of the Pumats say in their warm voice, smiling toothy grins before some of them turn back to their work, leaving one simulacrum to make dealings with Yasha.

"Ah, my most interesting customer, Yasha, the Witcher from beyond. How can I help you today?" Pumat Sol smiles nonthreateningly, not like others who have realised Yasha's line of work. Yasha smiles in return, looking around at the shelves, a stack of little bladed knives catching her eye.

"You have darts now?" the Witcher asks, pleasantly surprised.

"Now we do, after you asked all those years ago. These darts are enchanted to return when they miss. A well-placed investment, if you're so inclined to buy them." Pumat said, taking the stack of twenty darts down from its shelf and placing them in front of Yasha, who examines them with keen eyes. The blades of the flat darts are sharp and true, shaving off some of Yasha's arm hair when she ran the blade across her forearm.

"Well, these aren't for me, but they are for someone proficient in martial arts." Yasha smiles at Pumat, who nods in understanding.

"A monk, I see. Then this will make an excellent gift for them, then. Still a good choice, Witcher." Pumat smiles, pulling out a nice brown box.

"Then I'll get them. Thank you, Pumat." Yasha says, passing him a nice stack of gold pieces, which the firbolg accepts, respectfully of course, before packing them neatly into the brown box, passing them off to Yasha, who was in the midst of hiding her Witcher's medallion beneath her rain cloak.

"A smart choice, Yasha. Have a great day then." Pumat waves as Yasha exits, pulling her hood up under her straw hat as Yasha walks over with Roach to one of the nearby taverns that sat comfortably in front of the Cobalt Soul Valley Archive, entering the establishment that was bustling with life, some of the patrons wearing the signature blue-green vestiges of the Cobalt Soul. Taking a seat in the far corner, a tavern maid comes over to take her order as Yasha orders a flagon of ale along with some meats, passing the woman her coin without making eye contact, in fear of them recognising who, or rather, what she was.

Taking a sip of her ale, the noisy crowd is immediately silenced as a dissonant chord is played on the piano, all of the patrons looking towards another corner of the tavern, as a woman began to sing what sounded like a folk song. The hooded figures behind her start to play their instruments, giving the song a sombre and eerie feeling.

"Wolves asleep amidst the trees, bats all a swaying in the breeze, but one soul lies anxious wide awake, fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths, for your dolly Polly, sleep has flown, don't dare let her tremble alone." The woman sings, her voice angelic and eerie all at the same time as Yasha ate of her meats, slipping a strip of bacon in her mouth, an involuntary chill running down her spine. The tavern keeper herself seems surprised at the woman's presence, but watches on anyway, the performers proving to be quite entertaining as the patrons all looked towards them, glued to their seats.

  
"For the witcher, heartless cold, paid in coin of gold, he comes, he'll go, leave nought behind but heartache and woe. Deep, deep woe." Unrest seeps into Yasha's being now, as the music made her blood run cold. The patrons never move, all trained on the performers. Beneath her clothes, the medallion begins to vibrate, gently at first, but getting more and more severe. Yasha's eyes shift nervously from one person to the next, trying to find the source of magic. Perhaps it was just someone casting a harmless cantrip. Maybe it was something more. Holding on to her chest, Yasha keeps a watchful eye on everyone present.

"Birds are silent for the night, cows turned in as daylight dies, but one soul lies anxious wide awake, fearing no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths. My dear dolly, Polly, shut your eyes, lie still, lie silent, utter no cries." The woman sang as she reaches for one of the monks sitting in front of her, whispering something into his ear, the monk slowly nodding. Yasha's medallion vibrates ever faster, the Witcher holding on to it with her left hand, and tentatively resting her hand on the hilt of Magician's Judge.

"As the witcher, brave and bold, paid in coin of gold. He'll chop and slice you, cut and dice you, eat you up whole." The woman sings as the Cobalt Soul monk stands, his hand flying to his belt, drawing his blade as Yasha too stands, drawing Magician's Judge, the runes flaring as she held the sword at ready.

_  
"Eat you whole." _

The monk grabs at one of the patrons, running his shortsword through her as Yasha walks up to the singing woman, taking one of the vials on her waist and drinking it, her veins coursing with power as the rush of patrons escaping topples her straw hat, revealing Yasha's eyes. Darkness pools in them, the white tips of her hair going completely black as her wings protrude from her back, frightening the monk as he scrambled back. The woman continues to stand in front of Yasha, a smirk on her face as Yasha takes a swing, the woman going incorporeal before appearing behind her, whispering into her ear in a voice that should have been long gone.

"I know you, Witcher. Last of your kind, hunted down by those you once called friend," the fiend whispered in her ear in what sounded like Zuala's voice. "Who's to say your old party won't turn against you now, Yasha? They don't have much to lose now, do they?"

Yasha wanted to move, but she couldn't. Not after hearing the voice of Zuala again, after so many years.

"It's hunt or be hunted, Witcher. Make your choice." the succubus whispered into Yasha's ear, as she heard the telltale sound of a knife drawing from behind her, though she could do nothing. 

"I-" Yasha started, tears filling her eyes as she looked at the wall, focusing on Zuala's voice, not noticing the throwing knife that left the monk's hand, heading straight towards her head, before-

THUNK!

A startled Yasha turns towards the sound, seeing two knives impaled into the tavern wall. Cursing, the fiend goes incorporeal again, as a familiar quarterstaff wielding monk bursts through the tavern doors, blue-green robes trailing behind her as she scans the room with her keen vision, her eyes soon landing on Yasha, widening almost comically.

"Yasha!?" 

"B-Beauregard?" Yasha said, her mouth hanging. 

"WATCH OUT!" 

The creature who was playing the piano charges at Yasha, slashing at her as the Witcher reeled backwards, falling into a chair and flailing Magician's Judge around to no effect before finally pummeling the husk, sending it back a few metres as she stood up and slashed at the husk, cleanly splitting it into two with her silvered blade, the bisected halves falling to the floor like sacks of flour as grey ash-like material began to spill out of the cadaver. Ensuring that the creature was dead by grabbing a lantern and dropping it on the body to light it on fire, Yasha turns her attention to the charmed monk, who was currently being pummelled by Beau. Executing a deft and swift kick to the monk's knees causing him to collapse, Beau takes over, slapping her elbow into the monk's temple, stunning him as he knelt there, dazed.

Now back to back, the two warriors circled around, looking for any sign of the succubus.

"I didn't expect to see you in Zadash this soon. I thought that maybe I would have a few hours to myself." Yasha tried to quip, adjusting her grip on Magician's Judge.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you at all!" Beau exclaimed, her hand firmly gripping her staff, the both of them still on the lookout.

"I expected you to DIE, WITCHER!" The succubus shouted, appearing from nowhere as it slashed at Yasha, barely nicking her in the arm as it tried to disappear again, but Beau grabs on to its foot, throwing it at the wall as she threw a flying punch in its face and kicked it in the shin, causing the fiend tremendous pain as it tried to disappear again, but to no effect.

Smirking, Beau unloads on the succubus, twisting its hand and punching it in its gut with her pointed knuckles, her eyes closing for a moment before they snap open again, the Expositor shouting back at Yasha, who was getting ready to slash at it.

"This bitch is resistant to cold, fire, lightning, poison; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage from nonmagical attacks! Be careful, Yash!" Beau shouts as she fell back, keeping a wary stance.

Almost at the brink of keeling over, the succubus locks eyes with Yasha, as she began to _polymorph_ into the visage of Zuala, stopping Yasha's probably fatal slash dead in its tracks as the Witcher raked her eyes over Zuala's familiar form. Her tangled auburn hair and brown eyes, the Witcher's medallion hanging from her neck and the line of dark blue warpaint over her eyes and lip. It almost seemed just like her. Just like Zuala, from her brown leather robes and fur gauntlets, down to the long scar that ran down her shoulder and clavicle.

"Yasha?" Beauregard tentatively asks, not sure if her partner was charmed by the succubus again or otherwise.

"Harder to kill one of your own, isn't it, Witcher?" the fiend spoke in Zuala's voice, as Yasha's hand went down to her belt, pulling at one of the vials. It's dangerous to down more than one potion in a fight, she knows this, but she couldn't bear with having to proactively cut her own wife, false visage or otherwise, down as if she were a monster. 

Uncorking the vial of blue liquid that Yeza made for her, Yasha downs it, all while maintaining eye contact with the succubus, who looks between Beau and Yasha, afraid but also too proud to admit that she was about to die. Taking a last-ditch effort, the image of Zuala charges at Yasha, hand curled up into a fist, but was violently stopped short when Yasha, eyes as dark as the void, glared at the succubus, pillars of black protruding from within its chest and rising into a pillar of what seemed like fiendish blood. The succubus, now gasping for breath, collapses onto the floor, dropping Zuala's visage as it writhes on the floor, dying. Running Magician's Judge into its chest, the fiend lets out a pained screech, before finally going still, its body promptly melting into a pool of black ichor. Sheathing her blade, Yasha takes a few seconds to steady herself, before turning to Beauregard, a tired smile on her face.

"Why is it that we always meet in such inopportune places and at such inopportune times?" Yasha questioned, borrowing a word from Caleb's vocabulary, praying to Kord that she used it properly.

"Well, maybe it's just us." Beau quips, wiping her hands down on her robes, leaving a trail of red as she cursed silently.

"Whatever it is, you did a pretty good job, Expositor Lionett," Yasha said, a smile gracing her lips as she walked towards Beau, who was walking out of the tavern, the previous storm that was once here now reduced to a light drizzle.

"As did you, Witcher," Beauregard replies, planting a kiss on Yasha's cheek, smiling as she led them both towards the Cobalt Soul.

"I'm sure the Archive has some empty rooms we can use." Beau teases, before clearing her throat. "I mean if you want to. That whole thing with the succubus, if it shook you too much, then it's fine. We can play a game of Gwent instead."

"No, no," Yasha waves her hand in the air. These few years were a toll on her, but it would be wrong to say that she was the same person from 3 years ago. "Zuala and I have made peace with each other. And besides, it's not like anyone else will be using that spare room of yours, hmm?"

"How are you so smooth?" Beau questions as they walked past the gates and into the Cobalt Soul compounds.

"Only with you, Beauregard. And only through 5 years of hard practice with you and Fjord." Yasha said, smiling at Beau as she ushered them both inside.

Maybe a Witcher like Yasha does have the capacity to feel after all.

**Author's Note:**

> well, here it is, yasha nydoorin as a feckin witcher, complete with a totally useless side quest. this was brought to you by monster energy drink, dnd beyond and my 2 brain cells. bidet!
> 
> come holler at me on tumblr! @ham-ham-ham-shark!


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